Another Butterbeer
by theckel
Summary: Hermione has estranged herself from the wizarding community. An interesting story, indeed, and one she doesn't want to share. Draco, now a journalist, runs into her at the Leaky Cauldron... and journalists need interesting stories.


**chapter one – Oh. Yeah.**

It had been a while since she had last visited the Leaky Cauldron, and Hermione was pleased to find that it hadn't changed a bit. As always, she tugged her hood around her, got a mug of warm butterbeer, and sat in a corner. As always, she had to resist the temptation of Diagon Alley. Merlin knew she was breaking enough of her personal rules by being here, anyway.

She sighed, sipping the glorious drink as she watched amorous couples exchange fleeting glances, the clock nearing the hour when they would eventually leave, leaning on each other (she really wondered how they managed to walk like that), disapparating to places unknown or taking romantic walks through the new snow (damn wizards and their warming spells – the beautiful snow while _not_ freezing to death? Where was the justice, honestly).

Before she knew it, the butterbeer was gone.

Then, she did know it. The butterbeer was gone.

The _butterbeer _was _gone_.

Butterbeer Quota: 1 | Butterbeers Drunk: 1

It fit perfectly. There was no more reason to stay.

But…

But… _the butterbeer was gone!_

_Come off it_, she reasoned to herself, _you last came here, what, three months ago? That equates to _three _butterbeers, dear girl. Loosen up. Let yourself have some fun! If… that's what you're doing, alone at a pub._

Fine. She could not let such a condescending conscience treat her this way.

"Another butterbeer, please."

Hermione and the man both looked up in shock. This, she knew, was not good. For starters, looking up meant that the man could see her face. Which was why she _never _(up until now, darn it) looked up. Then there was also the slight problem that the man happened to be Draco Malfoy.

"… _Granger?_" Draco asked incredulously, her tangle of hair and huge brown eyes unmistakable to even him. She groaned upon realising it was him, which – even though she _was_ Granger – was slightly insulting. He bristled. "Oh, for the love of – it's not as though I'm happy to see _you_, either," he snapped.

"What?" she asked, in seemingly genuine surprise.

"Why the groan?" Not that he really cared.

"I groaned?"

"… yes." Had she gone barmy?

"Oh."

"Yeah." _Awkward._

Silence.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I… I'm hungry," she admitted, face burning despite herself. Malfoy. She was explaining to Malfoy why she had supposedly groaned.

"You're _hungry?_"

_Could he _please _stop with the incredulous tone? _"Yes! Yes, I know it's unladylike, but I'm hungry."

"_What?_"

"What?"

"It's… it's not unladylike. Granger, I was surprised because it's _two-bloody-AM_."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Silence.

"Though now you mention it, it _is_ rather unattractive."

Hermione opened her mouth to fire back a reply, when the bartender interrupted her.

"You two orderin' those butterbeers, or are yer just gon' stand there and talk ter each other like a pair o' teenagers who caught each other masturbatin' ter really strange porn?"

"_What?_" That was both of them.

Silence.

"Well?"

Draco composed himself. "No, it's alright, thanks. We'll be going for supper."

The bartender nodded in approval. "Good call, young un'."

"We will?" Granger asked.

"We will."

"But… I want the butterbeer," Hermione said. _Oh, yes. How intelligent. What the bloody hell was she saying!_

Silence.

Draco was, once again, flung into awkwardness. There was a limit to the amount of times he could compose himself. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"_Here_, 'ave this butterbeer and then get 'er some food! I'm tired of watchin' you kids!"

A butterbeer was shoved into both of their hands.

…

"… so then, I suppose that it _was _rather stupid of me to pile the next marshmallow on top, but I felt really ambitious, see, then the whole thing came crashing down and it was – bloody hell, _say something!_" Hermione choked out, having talked for at least five minutes straight. She gulped down a large portion of her butterbeer, no longer caring about ladylikeness or anything of the sort, the utter surrealism of sitting with Malfoy having chased all sense of logic out of her head.

Then, the git smirked.

Hermione put her butterbeer back on the table, mouth hanging open at a lack of words.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

She narrowed her eyes. Logic returned. "No…"

"Yes, that was entertaining." Not to mention it had given Draco the amount of time he'd needed to wrap his mind around this strange (_awkward_) situation.

"You – you – I'll bet you were using that time to compose yourself," she hissed. "Oh, yes, let Hermione do all the talking while I try and make sense of this even though it's bloody _weird_ for the both of us, because I'm just a selfish git like that and haven't changed in seven years and _oh_, I'm doing it again!"

"No, I wasn't," he lied, and then agreed with her, "and yes, you are. Thank you for those extra ten seconds, by the way."

She looked at him with her mouth resolutely shut.

He couldn't help it – he laughed.

And to his unexpected pleasure, her mouth turned up into a smile.

"Didn't you go Muggle on us?" he asked finally.

She groaned again.

"Right! Supper!" Draco declared, prising her empty mug out of her hand and standing up with a flourish.

"Malfoy, that's really unexpected–"

"_Excuse _me? I may be an idiot, but I _have_ got manners, you know."

Hermione smirked. "_Really_ unexpected," she continued, "and honestly, I'd like to, but I have to get going."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Oh look at the time, it's two-thirty! Have to get to our two-thirty appointments, don't we?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and replied equally as drily. "Yes, we must all prance around with money in our pockets, not needing to work the next morning."

He paid no mind. "I know just the place," he assured her.

"I _can't_," Hermione repeated firmly. "Besides, it would be awkward, wouldn't it?"

"Rubbish. We're both smart – though, one more than the other – and I happen to have a neverending supply of charm and wit. What's there to be awkward about?"

"No."

"_Fine_. Honestly, though, where do you work now? Considering that you've supposedly left the wizarding society."

She was secretly disappointed that he'd given up, but pleased that he'd seen she was serious. Hermione kind of doubted her logic's return, now. "Just a library here in London," she replied absent-mindedly.

"Typical."

"Was that an example of your wit?"

They continued in this fashion for just a few moments longer, Draco sitting back down because he felt rather ridiculous standing over her, until she bid him a content farewell and tugged her hood around her head once more.

It was ten seconds later that Draco realised he should have asked her where in London, because there were a _lot _of libraries. But no matter, there were interesting questions that needed answering, and he would do what he had to do to get them answered.

After all, he needed his job. And journalists needed interesting stories.

**an; **This was going to be a perfectly fluffy and simple one-shot, until that twist in the end came to mind. I'm not too sure what to think of it, but… I'll just see how it goes. And I'm sorry for not working on LMT. D;

Also, I'm not too sure what genre this will be. As you can see, it's my usual lack of planning at work.


End file.
